


Shakeup

by billybones



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 02:16:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13226067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/billybones/pseuds/billybones
Summary: Sheamus is worried about the impending shakeup. Cesaro is not. Which worries Sheamus.





	Shakeup

The stupid “we don't just raise the bar, we _are_ the bar” thing was so fucking corny but god, sheamus loved it. He loved being on the same page and all their new traditions and facing the world as a team. He loved cesaro sharing his ideas with him and making up joint moves together and doing interviews together and wearing the clothes cesaro made for them and just...all of it. He was so ridiculously, sickeningly happy. He never wanted this to end.

And tomorrow it might all be ripped out of his hands by the stupid superstar shakeup.

“So,” said Sheamus, casually leaning his hip against the bathroom counter and crossing his arms, “have you heard anything new about the shakeup?”

“No,” said Cesaro, voice a little distorted as he spoke around his toothbrush. He spat into the sink and washed his mouth out. “Why?”

Sheamus shrugged. “Just wondering.” And then, because he couldn’t help himself, “You’re not worried?”

Cesaro was flossing now, watching Sheamus in the mirror. “Worried?”

 _Not even worried. Hadn’t even thought about it._ _Fuck_.

Cesaro narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Sheamus retreated (casually) out of the bathroom. After a moment, Cesaro followed him.

Sheamus started pulling on clothes. He could feel Cesaro watching him.

“Are _you_ worried?” asked Cesaro. He was still in his underwear, a fact that was feeling more salient now that Sheamus had his pants on.

Sheamus pulled his shirt on, taking longer than necessary to smooth out the wrinkles.

Apparently he’d waited just long enough to make Cesaro think he wasn’t going to answer because Cesaro continued: “You don’t want to go to Smackdown? I imagine it would be pretty much the same.”

This was too much to bear. “ _Pretty much the same?!_ ” Sheamus demanded, whirling on him.

Cesaro’s eyebrows shot up. “Sure,” he said, sounding cautious. “I mean...I guess now that Foley is gone it might be nice to have Daniel Bryan as a GM, but no matter which brand you’re on you still have to fight for your spot-”

“It doesn’t matter to you at all?” Sheamus tried to keep his voice level, but he could tell from Cesaro’s face that he failed.

“What’s going on?” Cesaro looked so honestly confused, like he couldn’t even _begin_ _to imagine_ why Sheamus would be worried about them getting separated. They, whatever “they” were, mattered so little to him. “Sheamus,” Cesaro reached out a hand, but Sheamus stepped away from him. A flash of hurt was quickly covered by the coolly distant expression Sheamus knew so well. Cesaro looked away and grabbed his jeans out of his suitcase, pulling them on, the room simmering with tension and misery.

How had the morning gone so wrong? How was it just minutes before that they were smiling at each other in bed?

Cesaro’s shoulders were a tense line. Sheamus had to say something. He didn’t want Cesaro to know that he was worried about them being split up if Cesaro wasn’t. It made Sheamus feel exposed. Vulnerable. But Cesaro was hurt…

“I-,” Sheamus struggled with the words. Cesaro didn’t look at him, still searching his suitcase. “Look, I’ve- I’ve really um. Liked,” but god, _liked_ felt like too small a word, and any other words felt too frightening to look at, let alone _say_. Cesaro had gone very still, hunched over his suitcase. “Liked um...being your tag team partner.” Cesaro straightened up and looked at him. “I mean. This has been good, yeah?”

“...Yeah, Sheamus. It’s been good.” Cesaro’s face was doing something complicated. His hands were clenched, white knuckled at his sides.

“And we still haven’t gotten those titles back,” continued Sheamus, this felt almost like lying. Not that the titles weren’t important, but none of this was about them. “And I just- We’ve got this last chance to get those titles back and then-”

“ _This_ isn’t getting in the way of getting the titles back. It’s helped, if anything!”

“What?”

“Being together, doing all this,” Cesaro waved vaguely at the bed, “it’s made us a stronger team! We work together so well now. It’s not a distraction from the titles! Not for me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“What are _you_ talking about?!”

“The shakeup!” snapped Sheamus. Sheamus looked away and crossed his arms. “We could get separated in the shakeup. Shouldn’t we talk about it?”

There was a beat of silence. The room holding its breath. And then the silence was broken with a loud laugh. Sheamus looked back at Cesaro, eyes wide. Cesaro was laughing at him. Sheamus glared at him feeling small and foolish.

“Sheamus,” Cesaro wheezed. “Sheamus, you asshole! You- I thought-” He laughed, rubbing his hands over this face and shaking his head.

“ _I’m_ the asshole?” Sheamus snapped, as Cesaro leaned against the hotel dresser, wiping tears out of his eyes. Cesaro was briefly overcome with a fresh burst of giggles at this, before he finally managed to pull himself together.

“Sorry,” he said, grinning, then actually seeming to take in Sheamus’ expression he sobered a bit. “Sorry,” he said, meaning it this time. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“What are you _talking about?_ ”

“You first. You were trying to have a conversation about the shakeup, Sheamus?” Cesaro had taken a few steps towards him, his eyes were doing that soft thing that Sheamus didn’t know how to deal with.

“Yes! The shakeup! Us being separated in the shakeup! The thing we’ve been talking about!”

Cesaro laughed again, softly this time. He was looking at Sheamus, eyes crinkled in mirth, jeans hanging at his hips without the button done. He was very close now. Sheamus could just reach out a hand, and-

“Sheamus,” Cesaro reached out first, slipping his arms around Sheamus’ waist, pulling them closer still. “The tag teams aren’t going to get broken up by the shakeup.”

“What.”

“Vince _explicitly_ said that when he was telling us about it. Because I _asked_. You must not have been listening.”

Sheamus stared at him. “Oh.”

“That’s what you’ve been worrying about it all this time?” Sheamus could feel his face heating up. The amount of affection in Cesaro’s face and voice and arms was becoming untenable.

“Well.” He didn’t know what to say. He felt a little foolish, but more than that he could feel himself relaxing, anxiety seeping out. They weren’t going to be separated. If they went to Smackdown they would go together. “Wait, what did you think I was talking about?”

“I thought you were trying to tell me that you wanted to end this. This uh thing between us.”

“What? Why?” Sheamus stroked Cesaro’s sides with his fingertips.

“Because you were being weird, and talking about us in the past tense...and I don’t know. We’ve never really. Talked. About this. About us doing this.”

“I don’t want it to end.”

“Neither do I.”

Sheamus kissed him. They curled together for a moment, standing in the middle of their hotel room, the warm glow of morning coming in through the thin curtains.

Cesaro pulled back and smiled. “I suppose we should get dressed.”

“Or,” said Sheamus, grinning, “we could do the opposite of that. We don’t have to be anywhere for a few hours.”

 

It was considerably later when Cesaro pulled his jeans back up his hips and started tying on his shoes.

“You know, even if we do get separated in the next draft or shakeup. Other couples survive that. It would suck, but it wouldn’t have to be the end if we didn’t want it to be…”

Sheamus beamed at the pair of socks he was holding. _Couples._ Cesaro had called them a couple.


End file.
